Never Wanted This
by IcingDeath71
Summary: Captured by a cruel man determined to break him, Aragorn learns that in a world where he has nothing to lose but life itself, hope is not easily found. WARNING : Dark fic, Slash, Rape, Tort.
1. Prologue

**Never Wanted This**

By IcingDeath71

_Rating_ : M

_Email _: See bio

_Disclaimer_ : I own nothing except for some of the exceptionally retarded characters (ie : Daged and co.) Everything you recognize or think you recognize probably belongs to Tolkien. This story was written purely for enjoyment. Please do not rip my (exceptionally retarded) characters off without asking first.

_Summary_ : Captured by a cruel man determined to break him, Aragorn learns that in a world where he has nothing to lose but life itself, hope is not easily found.

_Warnings _: Slash, rape, torture, ect.** PLEASE DO NOT READ OF ANY OF THESE SUBJECTS DISTURB YOU AT ALL.** (List will probably grow with the story)

_Additional Notes : _This story is A/U, it does not take place in Tolkein's ME. In terms of timelines, Aragorn is approximately 20 years old (in the movies he was 87). Also, I've messed around with the timelines, so certain characters ages don't match up (Denethor).

Again, this story contains **slash**. If non-consentual stories disturbe you, _PLEASE DO NOT READ_. I need to stress this, because, if you proceed with this fic and find it unsuitable to your tastes, you have been warned.

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**Prologue**

Daged groaned loudly and his head fell backwards, his body racked by waves of mind-numbing pleasure that shook his frame from head to toe. For a few brief seconds Daged's mind was blissfully blank and he was incapable of coherent thought as his fingers tightened and his body trembled in release. His muscles in his face tensed as sheer emotion overpowered the man's self control, and then relaxed as the aftershocks trembled through his muscular frame. His eyes fluttered closed and his head dropped to his chest, his shoulders bowed in sudden fatigue.

After a few minutes of ragged panting his breathing slowed to an ordinary level and he gave a deep sigh of content, absently stroking the hair of the man kneeling before him. Without even opening his eyes, he was able to visualize to perfection the scene before him. The young man was breathing heavily, pulling air into his oxygen starved lungs, his bare back rising and falling with each breath he took. His head was bowed and his shoulder length hair hid his face from view, unruly strands sticking to his sweaty face and neck while other sections stood nearly on end as a result of Daged's hands gripping his hair in his excitement. He knew, beyond a doubt, that if he were to brush that fractious hair aside, the ranger would do naught to hide from him his lips, swollen from servicing orally, or the dark bruise that decorated one cheek, evidence to the abuse he suffered continually. More evidence presented itself in the form of red welts that decorated his shoulders and back and a myriad of small bruises that covered his hips. His wrists and ankles were both chaffed from the restraints Daged liked to use, and the corners of his mouth were torn from the coarse gag he'd suffered.

"Aragorn" Daged called and opened his eyes to watch as the ranger stirred, raising his bowed head and meeting his master's gaze. The youth's cheeks were flushed and though his posture reflected his complete submission, his eyes shone with the frustration at not yet having been relieved from sexual tension. His naked body, tanned from the hours he spend outdoors, trembled, and his hands were fisted by his knees. He made a small sound, his swollen lips parting as he wet them with his tongue, and gazed pleadingly at the Gondorian.

Daged smiled and dropped to one knee before Aragorn, raising one hand and cupping the ranger's face in his palm, feeling the slight stubble graze against his fingertips. Daged paused to marvel at his prize, the awe of his conquest not yet having diminished through the six months of Aragorn's captivity. Daged was still as captivated by the youth's strong, slender body and handsome features as he had been when the ranger had first entered his life. What surprised, and aroused, Daged the most about his young captive was the innocence Aragorn retained, though it was marred and marked by the brutality he'd suffered. It was evident now, after half a year of captivity, that there was no limit to Aragorn's submission for he hated and feared his master's anger even more then the perverse acts he was made to perform.

Daged's second hand ran soothingly down Aragorn's sides and caressed his flanks before moving to relieve the ranger of his arousal. Aragorn moaned in encouragement and Daged watched in enjoyment as the youth's eyes glazed over and his focus shifted inwards as he concentrated on the hand that moved against his length. His hips bucked forwards into Daged's hand on their own accord and he ranger moaned again, his fingers gripping his own thighs tight enough to bruise. His body writhed under Daged's skillful ministrations and he came with a cry a moment later, his body shaking as he savored the pleasures he was granted.

"Wash up Aragorn, I can't have you attending dinner smelling of sweat and sex. Appealing as the idea may be, my steward would surely thrash me for such an act." Daged rose to his feet and waited for Aragorn's nod of acknowledgement before allowing the ranger to rise from his knees. Aragorn rose with a small moan of discomfort as his muscles worked, aggravating injuries new and old, and steadied himself with a hand against the wall. He swayed momentarily, his flanks trembling and his head bowed, before finding his balance and moving gingerly off towards the bathing chamber.

Daged watched him with a grin, observing the tender manner in which the ranger tried to accomplish such a simple task as walking. There would be no doubt tonight as to why he was unable to sit comfortably, and the knowledge made Daged smile all the wider.

The connection between Daged and Aragorn was born by fear, pain, and tears. There was nothing emotional between the two, and it was clearly reflected to all who cared to see for Daged would have it no other way. He knew, beyond a doubt, that Aragorn thought him cruel and uncaring, and had the ranger been presumptuous enough to say it out loud, the Gondorian would hardly have protested. Indeed, he hardly cared about his young slave's wellbeing except to insure that he was capable of performing sexually.

Aragorn's back retreated from view and Daged moved to collect his discarded clothing and began dressing. That night, he decided, he would take Aragorn again, probably more then once, and come morning his mood, having been sullied by the reports he'd completed that day, would be greatly refreshed. With that though in mind, he left, leaving the ranger alone in his chambers to suffer the demons that plagued his mind and tormented his soul.


	2. Chapter 1

**Never Wanted This**

By IcingDeath71

_A/N : _Just a heads up that this may become how often I post. I know my chapters aren't excessively long or anything, but I do require time to write, and I do try to write everyday. Often, I'll rewrite parts up to four times before I'm satisfied with them, and sometime I'll get to the end of the chapter, decide I don't like it, and redo it completely. Either way, I do ensure the chapters you receive are the best they can be considering that I'm not an author by profession.

I do want everyone know that once I begin a story, I do not give up on it. Which means that NWT will be written from start to finish and I **will not** stop it half way through. I cannot, however, give a guarantee as to how fast that finish may arrive. I've actually decided to respond to all my reviewers, seeing as how you're the reason this story is alive, and responses will be posted at the end of the chapters.

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**Chapter 1**

Aragorn surveyed his reflection in the mirror. Physically, he reflected, he'd returned to nearly perfect health. A body that had once been gaunt from starvation and physical mutilation had filled out and muscles that had once been slack from atrophy had begun to tone again. Even the scars upon his back, a daily reminder of his time as a captive of orcs, had begun to fade, and within years they would vanish completely.

If only his soul could heal as easily as his body. Aragorn gave a deep sigh, running his fingers through his hair in frustration, and cursed his Numenorien descendent for without the contribution of elvish ancestry he would never have survived his time as a captive of orcs. He often reflected back on those days and found himself frequently wishing he'd died. He'd tried to take his own life on occasion, but the fear of attempting and failing always stopped him. If Daged even knew what thoughts he pondered he would be certainly be punished, and Aragorn would do anything to avoid Daged's punishments.

Disgusted with the reflection that watched him out of dark, sorrowful eyes, Aragorn turned away, snarling in hopeless frustration. In Daged's sleeping quarters Aragorn found the clothing Daged had selected for him to wear, and he couldn't suppress the sigh of melancholy that escaped his lips at the discovery.

The leggings Daged had chosen were uncomfortably tight, shaping every contour of his lower body, and the waistband rested obscenely low on his hips, barring the swell of his backside. The buttons down the front of the shirt he was to wear had been torn off, an obvious indication to the ranger that the shirt was to be worn open, exposing his chest and belly. Every movement he made, the leggings stretching to accentuate his muscled body and the shirt fluttering around his sides to display his naked chest, made him acutely aware of how others perceived him. It was no wonder he was called a whore, he thought bitterly, a small tremor running through his body.

The most frightening relevation, however, was the fact that it no longer felt wrong. He'd once rebelled against Daged's treatment of him, and there had been a time when his stomach would curl at the mere thought of presenting himself thusly clad. Now, however, he no longer balked against appearing as so, for there was little the civilians of Minas Tirith had not witnessed. They'd come to learn that there was no limit to the ranger's submission, and had witnessed him at his most degrading moments. Aragorn had been beaten into slavery before the court, they had watched his gradual descent from a proud, kingly ranger to Daged's whore. And, though he hated his life, it no longer felt wrong.

The trembling of his body was beyond his control, and Aragorn could tell he was a breath away from tears. He crossed his arms before his chest, hugging his shaking body protectively, trying to get derive what warmth he could from the thin shirt. His body, emotional beyond his control, betrayed him and within minutes he was weeping silently, hating himself with every ounce of his being.

_xxxxx_

Arriving late at dinner had both it's advantages and downfalls. Though it granted the young ranger a few minutes of solitude away from his cruel master, the majority of the court was already present when Aragorn entered, watching him move towards the table where Daged sat with his men. Aragorn tried to disregard the looks aimed at him, but was incapable of ignoring the lewd comments aimed his way and he could feel the men's lusty gazes as they ran their eyes appreciatively down his body.

Aragorn kept his gaze on the floor, watching his booted feet, for he knew his eyes were still red from tears and refused to humiliate himself further by displaying that fact to the entire court.

When the youth reached the table where Daged was seated, he murmured his apologies at his delay before taking his seat at his master's side. Daged raised one hand, cupping Aragorn's chin and turning the ranger's face upwards, and his eyes glittered in amusement as he surveyed the ranger's bloodshot eyes and tear stained cheeks.

'Why were you delayed?' Daged asked, his sharp tone causing Aragorn to flinch.

'I... I lost track of time, sir,' Aragorn said quietly, resisting the urge to wince as Daged's fingers tightened cruelly. 'It won't happened again.' His eyes flicked downwards in what he hoped was a gesture of submission while he waited for Daged to either release him or to respond.

'See that it doesn't.' Daged dropped his hand, but not before the rest of the table had directed their attention at them, smirking as they noticed the ranger's tear stained face.

Even after Daged had released him, Aragorn was acutely aware of another set of eyes that continued to watch him. He didn't need to raise his head to identify their owner, for he knew they belonged to Tamarul, the man who both hated and lusted for Aragorn more then any in Minas Tirith. Tamarul was, if possible, even crueler then Daged and made no attempt to disguise his hatred for the unfortunate ranger.

'After dinner you shall join me, there is to be a celebration in honor of Denethor's return.' Daged watched Aragorn as he spoke, well aware of how the news would affect his young slave.

'Denethor has returned?' Aragorn paled and leaned backwards against the back of his chair, requiring the extra support. Daged, possessive of his whore, did not allow his men the nights they longed for with Aragorn, but he could not deny the wishes of his ruler's son. Whenever Denethor was in Minas Tirith he sought out the ranger's companionship and though he was undoubtedly kinder then Daged, the abusiveness of the situation was did not go unnoticed by Aragorn.

The evening meal was served almost immediately by workers who bore large dishes filled with food to the tables. Aragorn selected only a small portion to eat, but when Daged saw the amount of food he had taken, he frowned.

'Aragorn,' his master said, and the ranger turned to face him. 'You need to eat more.'

Aragorn, who silently argued that he was putting on weight at a reasonable pace, kept silent as Daged slipped a hand inside the ranger's shirt, feeling the soft skin below his fingertips. He ran his hand down the youth's bare side assessingly, and stopped when his palm rested on Aragorn's hip.

'You need to eat more,' he reiterated, and the young ranger nodded obediently.

By the time Aragorn was finished eating, Daged was already deep in conversation with an advisor at his side. Aragorn sighed and leaned back in his chair, allowing his gaze to wander around the room. Incidentally, he caught the eye of Tamarul, seated opposite him across the table. The man beckoned for him to lean forwards. After a brief moment of hesitation, for nothing Tamarul would say could be good, he obliged.

'Sore, Aragorn?' Tamarul began, instantly confirming the ranger's suspicions that the conversation would be pleasant in the least.

Why lie? he thought. It wasn't as thought Tamarul was oblivious of what passed between Daged and his slave. Besides, if he thought Aragorn was being untruthful, he would probably tell Daged of the rangers dishonesty, bringing forth yet another bout punishment for the unfortunate ranger.

'Yes,' he admitted.

Tamarul flashed a sadistic smile, running his eyes down Aragorn's exposed chest. 'Did he whip you?'

'No, I did nothing to warrant punishment.' Aragorn shifted, uncomfortable with more then just the conversation.

The man opposite him smiled knowingly. 'Used you hard, did he? Did you beg? One day, Aragorn, I'll have you, and I'll make you beg.'

'It doesn't take much,' Aragorn replied, ashamed of his submission.

Tamarul laughed at the remark, his eyes shinning in enjoyment.

'I would, however, give you a say in how I took you. Would you prefer being spread over my desk or pressed up against the wall?'

Thankfully Aragorn was spared from replying, not that he could have provided an answer to such a degrading question, by Daged who had at last finished his conversation. He rested a warning hand on the ranger's shoulder and Aragorn sat up, wondering if he would be punished for speaking to Tamarul without first consenting with Daged.

'Pleasant conversation?' Daged asked and the ranger nearly sighed in relief, for no anger lined his master's words.

'I suppose so.' He cast a sideways glance towards Tamarul, sickened by the satisfied smirk painted across his face. Suppressing the shudder he felt, he bowed his head, pressing his lips quickly to Daged's wrist.

Daged seemed pleased by the action, for he smiled and stood, stretching his tall frame.

'Come Aragorn, we have places to be and people to grace with our company.'

The young ranger quickly stood, purposefully keeping his gaze away from Tamarul, who watched as the ranger's shirt fluttered to bare his body. Daged set off across the hall and Aragorn obediently fell into place behind him, his gaze trained on the floor.

Within minutes they had reached the hall in which the celebration was being held. Aragorn, to his disappointment, spotted Denethor within moments of entering the hall. The steward's son was lounging against the wall, a drink in one hand, conversing with a man standing before him. His eyes flickered towards Aragorn and Daged at once and a sincere smile broke out upon his lips, the expression in his eyes silently bidding them to wait.

Denethor excused himself away from the man with whom he was talking before making his way towards Daged and his slave, his eyes glowing in joy and slight intoxication.

'Daged! Well met.' Denethor clapped Daged on his shoulder and Daged smiled in response, returning the amiable gesture.

'It's wonderful to see you returned, my lord.'

Denethor laughed, dismissing the retort. 'Nay. I doubt you even noticed my absence.'

Daged shook his head. 'Of course I did. Minas Tirith is much quieter without you present.' He grinned to show the comment had been made in jest.

Aragorn, standing silently behind his master, raised his gaze to watch Denethor, for though he hated the man as passionately as any other in Minas Tirith, he could not help but admire him. His handsome face, slightly scarred from the battles he'd seen, was framed by dark waves, blacker then Aragorn's own. His sapphire eyes shone with vivacity and the smile upon his lips was genuine. His stance was tall and proud and his dark cloak framed his muscled body; the sword at his hip was worn with pride. His hands were callused from the work he did and, much like his face, chaffed from the weather he'd suffered. He radiated confidence and enthusiasm and Aragorn couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy, for within the regal man he saw a glimpse of who he used to be.

Denethor's gaze moved to the ranger and their gazes met for the briefest of breaths before Aragorn dropped his eyes, closing them momentarily to contain the emotion he'd felt stirring within.

'Aragorn, step forwards so I can see you.'

The ranger sighed and moved ahead, meeting Denethor's gaze yet again. The man smiled kindly and raised a hand, running his finger's down the youth's face.

'You look wonderful,' he said, his voice gentle, 'if slightly underdressed.'

Aragorn smiled in gratitude, touched by the remark.

'Nonsense!' Daged laughed. 'He's a sex slave, not a soldier. In my opinion, he's wearing far too much for such a station.'

Had his hand not still been touching the ranger's face, Denethor would not have noticed Aragorn flinch at the crude comment. For a moment, his eyes reflected pity before he turned his gaze on Daged.

'You're too hard on him Daged, he tries to please you.' Denethor's voice was light and friendly again, his smile so sincere Aragorn honestly wondered if he'd imagined the look Denethor had given him.

'He tries with the hopes of avoiding punishment.' Daged's callused remark stung the young ranger, who shivered as his master stepped up behind him.

'There are alternative methods that warrant the same results. Were you mine, Aragorn, you would not suffer in fear of the whip.'

Daged was quick in his reposte. 'Were he not so rebellious, I would hardly find reason to whip him.'

Denethor's argument died as his eyes dropped to watch Daged's hands, which slipped around Aragorn's waist and pulled his shirt open, baring his body. Daged's hands caressed him, running up and down the ranger's slim sides before dropping to the waistband of his leggings, his fingers darting underneath.

Aragorn's body, trained to respond to such caresses, trembled beneath his hands. Denethor watched in rapt fascination as Aragorn's breathing quickened against his will, his breath coming as quick pants as his body reacted as it had been taught. The ranger felt his face redden in mortification, aware that other's watched him as well, and could do naught but submit as Daged ran his hands possessively over is body.

'Do you doubt the effectiveness of my training?' Daged asked quietly, and Denethor gave him only a quick glance before Aragorn's gasp stole his attention as Daged dropped a hand to brush against the bulge in his leggings in such a gentle fashion the ranger nearly groaned in frustration, and only by biting his lower lips was he able to stop the sound. Daged's breathy chuckle sounded in Aragorn's ear before he upped the attack by bowing his head to nip and lick at the ranger's neck.

Daged's free hand continued to caress his young slave's body as his second hand continued tormenting the ranger, gliding between his legs with so little friction Aragorn's had to cling to every ounce of self control to keep his hips from bucking forwards into Daged's palm. He closed his eyes, ashamed of his wanton submission and his body's instant response to his master's touch.

Daged's hands stopped and the man raised his mouth from the ranger's neck to watch Denethor, who was watching the pair with eyes aflame with desire.

'Do you want him for the night, my lord?' Daged asked.

Denethor's gaze rose to meet Daged's, and their eyes met over Aragorn's shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was rough with desire.

'Yes.'


	3. Chapter 2

**Never Wanted This**

By IcingDeath71

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**Chapter 2**

Denethor watched in satisfaction as Aragorn's balance began to waver and his eyes lost their sharp focus as the drug took effect.

The steward's son prided himself upon being a man of principles and had spoken truly when he'd told Aragorn that, under his care, the ranger would need not fear either pain or punishment. Denethor honestly hated the manner Daged treated his slave, and doubted whether the unfortunate youth did anything to warrent the majority of the punishments he received or the shameful public acts he was forced to perform. Denethor had been a witness on countless occasions as Aragorn knelt tearfully before his master, desperately ignoring the many sets of eyes that watched him service orally, or was spread over Daged's lap, his naked backside in the air, trying to hide his sobs as his master's hand lay blow after blow upon his exposed skin.

Denethor knew the difference between submission born from fear and pain, and submission willingly given. Before he'd always ignored the distinction and though he'd thrived in the pleasures Aragorn's body had given him, the ranger's tears during the nights had hurt him deeply. He knew that, despite his best intentions, Aragorn would never truly give his body to the steward's son in all willingness. Under that knowledge, Denethor had felt only slight guilt as he'd slipped a healthy dosage of aphrodisiac into Aragorn's wine.

'How are you feeling, Aragorn?' Denethor asked, raising a hand and placing it upon the ranger's shoulder. Aragorn's eyes darted briefly to the hand before returning to Denethor's gaze, a mixture of emotion within his dark eyes.

'Better, I suppose,' he replied, his voice low. His eyes darted back to the hand upon his shoulder and Denethor could plainly read the confusion upon Aragorn face, confusion born from not understanding his body's reaction to Denethor's touch.

'Come sit with me,' Denethor offered, wrapping his arm around Aragorn's slim body and guiding him towards the edge of the hall where large, comfortable couches were located. He selected a vacant one and pulled the youth down beside him, pleased when the ranger instantly curled around him, his head on Denethor's shoulder and one hand resting comfortably on his leg. Denethor ran his hand fondly down the ranger's back and felt a stab of guilt as his action produced a pained gasp when his hand unintentionally brushed over sore welts.

'I'm sorry,' the future steward apologized, mentally scolding himself for forgetting who he dealt with and what Aragorn suffered daily.

Aragorn shook his head, denying the apology. 'You need not apologize, my lord.'

Denethor tipped the ranger's face upwards using his free hand, looking the youth directly in the eyes. He was silent for a moment, reveling in the simple pleasure of having Aragorn in his arms watching him out of unfocused, hazy eyes. The ranger wet his lips, uncomfortable with the tender attention he so rarely received, and his eyes flickered downwards.

'Look at me,' Denethor gently commanded and Aragorn's gaze snapped back up at once, the expression in his eyes a mixture of guilt and apprehension.

Denethor removed his hand from the ranger's face and stroked the youth's hair, running his fingers down the dark tangle of locks to the back of Aragorn's neck, pleased with the shiver his actions produced. Aragorn instinctively leaned closer, desire also showing in his expressive eyes as Denethor's fingers caressed his neck, his touch gentler then any caress Aragorn could remember. The ranger made a quite, content sound and, keeping eye contact, rounded his neck, pressing into the welcome touch.

Denethor gave a quiet sigh, his warm breath ghosting over Aragorn's face, and his fingers tangled in the waves of hair, moving upwards to gently massage the ranger's chaffed neck. Aragorn's eyes fluttered as he relaxed into the touch, ever so slowly moving his head closer to Denethor's own, and he inhaled deeply, his eyes falling closed in bliss.

Denethor's hand stopped and cupped the back of Aragorn's head, applying gentle pressure to encourage the youth to come forwards the inch that was needed for their lips to meet. Aragorn hesitated for the briefest second, demonstrating that the drugged wine had not taken complete control as of yet, and then complied.

The kiss began gently as their lips melted together, their warm breaths mingling between their mouths. Denethor moved his lips gently over Aragorn's own, savoring the sensation as Aragorn responded in turn, his mouth moving to meet the slow pace Denethor had set. The two kissed softly, oblivious to all else as their lips moved against one another, unhurried and undemanding. Aragorn's entire body softened under the attention, his chest pressing against Daged's side as he leaned forwards, his neck stretching to maintain contact, and his arms wrapping around Denethor's body to support him. He relaxed into the kiss, every ounce of unwillingness deserted as the drug took effect and Denethor's kiss pulled him deeper into his passion and farther towards oblivion.

Surprisingly, it was Aragorn who first tried to deepen the kiss, his tongue flickering out to sweep against Denethor's lips, and then retracting as his lips closed to keep the rhythm Denethor had set. Denethor smiled as the ranger tried again, his tongue slipping past the future steward's lips as they separated.

Aragorn's moan as Denethor complied, deepening the kiss and using his own tongue to thoroughly taste the ranger, vibrated throughout his entire body, sending shivers down Denethor's spine. Still, they kept their tempo slow as their tongues entwined and Aragorn once more resumed his submissive role, gently sucking Denethor's tongue into the cavern of his mouth.

Denethor began to gently thrust his tongue into the young ranger's mouth in time with the movement of their lips and Aragorn rocked his head with the motion, his second moan becoming lost the moment it passed into Denethor's mouth. His hands tightened in Denethor's tunic and his body trembled as waves of passion swept through his frame.

The kiss ended and their mouths separated slowly in disappointment, both men panting and flushed. They paused for a moment, each allowing the other to catch his breath before returning for a second kiss. Their lips had barely made contact when a cry to their side alerted them of another's presence.

'Denethor!' Aragorn jerked in surprise and, before he had time to comprehend the action, growled in annoyance. For a moment Denethor turned amused eyes on the ranger before turning his attention, however unwillingly, to the man who had called him.

Rauldon, another of Daged's men, chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

'I've spend the last fifteen minutes looking for you, my lord. I should have known you'd be off on the sidelines with your tongue halfway down that whore's throat.' He waved his arm at Aragorn and the guesture knocked him off balance. Rauldon swayed, hardly keeping upright, and the young ranger sneered at the obvious presence of alcohol.

Denethor stood and the motion knocked Aragorn, who was practically sprawled across his lap, to the ground. Aragorn instantly resumed his seat, his legs curled under him and his arms across his chest. Denethor glanced quickly at him and smiled at the ranger's sullen attitude.

Denethor embraced Rauldon, his long time friend, and motioned for him to take a seat. Rauldon complied, heedless of the young ranger.

'How long have you returned for this time? Will Ecthellion have you running off on another errand immediately?' Rauldon asked.

Denethor chuckled, trying to ignore Aragorn, who's hand had begun to journey slowly up Denethor's leg.

'As far as I know, my father has nothing planned for the immediate future. Perhaps this time I'll actually be allowed to rest for a while before he comes up with yet another use for me.'

Rauldon, more stable since having sat down, nodded. 'Perhaps this time you'll actually have a moment to spend with an old friend.'

Denethor gave him an apologetic smile. 'I've always tried in the past. You know I value the time spent in your company.'

Rauldon gave a crooked grin and sighed, settling back against the cushions and nearly spilt the glass of wine he had in his hands. With a chuckle, Denethor reached ahead to steady it.

Denethor turned to look at Aragorn, his gaze stopping the hand that was steadily moving up his thigh. 'Finish your wine, Aragorn,' he commanded, reminded of the drink by Rauldon's glass. The ranger made a disappointed sound in his throat and withdrew his hand, reaching for the glass on the table at the end of the couch.

Rauldon was in no hurry to depart, and the conversation between him and Denethor progressed for quite some time. Occasionally, Denethor would cast a glance over his shoulder at the obviously impatient Aragorn and was unable to contain his smirk as, on more then one occasion, Denethor caught the ranger gazing into the crowd with undisguised desire, his empty glass back on the end table.

At last, Rauldon said farewell, claiming the next day would bring him enough grief as the result of his intoxication without sleep deprivation. Denethor watched as he stumbled from the hall, certain that, even in his state, Rauldon would have little problems getting to his rooms. Denethor turned back to Aragorn and had barely had time to register the ranger's quick movements before he found himself propelled onto his back as the youth lunged on top of him, sucking the breath from Denethor's lungs in the most frantic kiss the steward's son had ever witnessed.

Even as Denethor was still struggling to comprehend what had just taken place, Aragorn's hand dropped between their bodies to skillfully bring Denethor to full hardness at once. The youth moaned quietly, unable to restrain himself for any longer, and ground his hips on Denethor's thigh, panting in pleasure.

Denethor quickly grabbed at Aragorn's hand and forcefully pushed the ranger back off of him, surprised by the intensity in the young ranger's eyes. Aragorn allowed himself to be manhandled to a point, and then stubbornly refused to back any further, leaving Denethor sitting upright again with a very aroused Aragorn straddling his thighs.

'Please,' Aragorn begged, his voice ragged from arousal. 'Take me, my lord. I can't wait any longer.' He ground his hips forward.

Denethor looked into the ranger's eyes, shinning in frustration and dark with desire, and felt his resistance tremble. This had been what he'd wanted when he'd given Aragorn the aphrodisiac, had it not?

What he had not expected, however, was the intensity with which the ranger accepted his drug induced desire. Under the passionate youth's sinful actions Denethor's resistance became no more then a fleeting memory and before long Aragorn, all inhibitions vanished, panted and moaned wantonly as Denethor used his body once in the hall, and then many times over the course of the night in the confines of his own private chambers.


	4. Chapter 3

**Never Wanted This**

By IcingDeath71

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**Chapter 3**

Aragorn gave a weary sigh and raised a hand to his temple, placing the heel of his palm against his head to abate the dull throb that echoed throughout his entire body; a headache brought on by confusion, mortification, and emotions he was unable to control. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he paused, leaning against the stone wall as he attempted to regain some measure of control over his wayward emotions.

The effects of the drug in which he'd overindulged the night prior were just beginning to wear off and the gradual decline of the euphoric bliss was accompanied by a dull throb that radiated throughout his body and a sick, lightheaded feeling. The ranger rested his back against the cool stone and closed his eyes, his hand still pressed firmly against his temple.

He'd spend a long, sleepless night with Denethor, of which he could recall little save for the occasional passionate moment. Those few moments he could remember, however, were enough to tell him exactly how he'd behaved the night prior; memories of his shameful behavior before the entire court, Denethor pushing him forcefully up against a cool stone wall, tumbling to the floor after having spent himself into Denethor's warm mouth, and moaning eagerly into a leather gag as Denethor's hand caressed his body. He also bore physical evidence of fresh whip marks across his backside and red lines around each wrist from being restrained, and though he could not recall having received such wounds they left little room for doubt as to some of what occurred the night prior.

And then this morning, the memory already becoming hazy as the drug's effects continued to linger, he'd woken in the future stewards arms, his body immediately reacting to Denethor's presence and the Gondorian had woken to the feel of Aragorn's talented tongue on his semi hard arousal. After spilling his seed down Aragorn's throat the steward's son had dragged Aragorn up to his side and, watching him out of guilty eyes, had admitted to drugging the ranger the night prior, apologizing profusely. Aragorn's mind, however, was not on Denethor's confession, but rather focused on his body's demands while he waited for the Gondorian to finish speaking.

He had sated Aragorn's desire afterwards, much to the ranger's delight, and had sent the youth from his rooms soon afterwards. Almost immediately the drug's effects had begun to fade, stealing with them the majority of the memories of what had happened under its influence. Already the ranger could hardly remember speaking with Denethor only an hour before, and it was nearly guaranteed that he would have no recollection of the Gondorian's confession. He rested his back against the cold stone wall, shivering slightly as the chill seeped past the remainder of the flimsy tunic he bore and into his skin, before pushing reluctantly off from the wall and continuing the slow journey back to Daged's rooms, wary of the welcome he would receive.

He arrived at Daged's rooms far to quickly and stood outside the stone door for a moment, attempting to compose himself before venturing inside to face the pain and humiliation that was inevitable. Much to his surprise, however, Daged was absent from his chambers, allowing the young ranger a few more moments peace.

Aragorn stripped off his ruined tunic, tearing it a bit more in his haste to be rid of the offending garment, and tossed it carelessly across the room. He stretched, his aching body protesting, and moved towards the hearth, kneeling on the fur Daged had placed on the ground before it. If he state of the hearth was any indication, Daged had been absent for quite a while, for the untended fire had slowly been reduced to barely glowing coals.

He should have known, however, that his peace and solitude was to good to last. No more then half an hour since having returned, Aragorn heard the ominous sound of booted feet approaching down the hallway. He half turned to face the door and wrapped his arms protectively around his chest, the tremors beginning in his body having naught to do with the cold.

Daged swept into the room, looking possibly more imposing and impressive then Aragorn had ever seen him. His eyes were drawn automatically to the kneeling youth and within a heartbeat Aragorn knew that Daged was in no mood to be tempered with, for his eyes were alight with malice and anger and his very stance radiated his displeasure.

Aragorn rose quickly and moved to his master, though approaching the angry Gondorian was the last thing he wanted to do. Daged watched him from narrowed eyes, taking in his appearance. His sharp eyes darted along the ranger's bare torso, down his arms to the red abrasions circling his wrists and back up to his face, and then, without warning, Daged grabbed Aragorn and pulled him forcefully against the Gondorain, claiming his mouth possessively in such a hard kiss that Aragorn could taste the metallic tang of blood on his lips.

Aragorn staggered when he withdrew and only by clutching on to Daged's arms was he able to remain upright. At the kiss, no matter how violent it may have been, the last remainder of the drug in his system stirred and Aragorn felt a wave of desire wash over him, but to his fortune Daged didn't notice the lust induced shiver that passed through the youth's body.

'Come with me,' Daged ordered, turning on his heel and sweeping out of the room. Aragorn swayed for a moment, at a lost, then quickly regained his sensibilities and stumbled after his master, still fighting to overcome his emotions.

Daged lead Aragorn through the labyrinth of corridors, taking the young ranger deep into Minas Tirith until they were, beyond a doubt, below ground. There were no windows though which the sun could seep into the dark hallway and the only source of light was the torches, stationed at intervals along the stone walls. The very air in these corridors was damp and chill and Aragorn shivered, hugging his arms to his chest as he hurried to keep pace with his master.

Eventually, Daged stopped before a stone door and paused, his hand on the door's handle. Inexplicably, Aragorn felt a rush of foreboding; a sensation intensified tenfold when Daged cast him a look full of malice. Before he could come to terms with the emotion, Daged had grabbed him roughly by the upper arm, pulled open the door, and was steering the fearful ranger into the chamber's interior.

Even before seeing the elf, Aragorn knew his intuition had been correct. Tamarul lounged casually against the wall, a satisfied smile on his rugged face, and another man with whom Aragorn had never associated came forward immediately, clutching a bloody whip in one hand. It took a moment for Aragorn to draw his eyes away from the whip, cruel in a fashion he only believed possibly by orcs, and to break free of the terror that had momentarily paralyzed him. He cast his gaze around the room, his eyes falling upon a sight that made his knees buckle with sadness.

In the center of the room, his wrists chained above his head, knelt an elf. Even from the doorway Aragorn could hear the immortal's ragged breathing and could see the manner his body hitched with agony. The source of his pain was evident for his back had been brutally assaulted and his sides were stained with the blood that ran freely from his torn back, down his body to the floor on which he was forced to kneel. His eyes were closed and his face tense with pain, but in typical elven fashion no tears showed on his porcelain cheeks and when Tamarul pushed himself away from the wall and approached the elf, his eyes snapped open, directing at Tamarul a look of absolute hatred.

Tamarul, looking far happier then Aragorn had ever seen him, knelt in front of the elf and grasped his chin in one hand, tipping his face upwards. His knuckles were white and Aragorn had no doubt that the grip was designed to hurt, but the only emotion visible in the elf's steely eyes was anger.

'Perhaps we've found a way to loosen your tongue after all,' Tamarul said, the corners of his lips curving upwards in a sadistic smile. His gaze flickered towards Aragorn and the elf's eyes followed, giving the ranger the same look of hatred before returning to the man before him.

Daged, whom Aragorn had nearly forgotten about in his terror, shoved the young ranger forwards and Aragorn balked, turning back to his master with a look of pleading in his wide eyes. He opened his mouth, intent on begging to be released, but before he could even begin Daged struck him forcefully, dropping the youth to the ground.

Aragorn gasped in pain, his hand flying to his temple where he'd been hit.

'You've lived among elves, right?' Daged said, grabbing Aragorn's wrist and dragging the youth to his feet again. Aragorn nodded wordlessly. 'And you speak their language?'

Aragorn nodded again, his eyes wide in fear.

Daged smiled cruelly. 'Good. Then perhaps you can reason with him.' The Gondorian shoved Aragorn forwards, forcing him to his knees in Tamarul's recently vacated spot before the elf. Up close, Aragorn could tell that the abuse the elf had suffered went beyond the brutal whipping, for his lips were swollen and a bruise was beginning to set in on one side of his face.

Daged placed a strong hand at the base of Aragorn's neck, insuring the ranger would remain on his knees, and he took the cruel whip in his free hand, running the rough leather thong across the skin on Aragorn's back. Aragorn stiffened instantly, his hands balling into fists at his knees.

'He will be whipped,' Daged said, his comments now aimed at the immortal, 'if you will not speak. Perhaps you care more for the wellbeing of others then you do for your own.'

To demonstrate, Daged brought the whip down sharply on Aragorn's exposed shoulders, earning a quiet moan of pain from the ranger.

The elf's silver eyes met Aragorn's and the youth could see that Daged's words, and indeed his actions, had struck a nerve for there was an obvious hint of uncertainty in the immortal's gaze.

'Ask him who he is, where he's from, and what he's doing in Gondor,' Daged ordered, removing his hand from the base of Aragorn's neck and stepping back so he had a better angle from which to whip the unfortunate ranger.

Aragorn closed his eyes and at his knees his hands tightened into white knuckled fists. He was acutely aware of the pangs of discomfort rising up his legs as his knees pressed into the unyielding stone floor and the rustle of cloth behind him as Daged readied himself, shaking the kinks out of the cruel whip. Before him, the chains that held the immortal on his knees rattled as the elf shifted.

Drawing a shaky breath, Aragorn opened his eyes, but kept his gaze fixed firmly on the blood spattered ground between his own knees, unable to look at the elf's face. He felt hot tears of fear and injustice prick at the corners of his eyes and fought the sob welling in his chest.

"Who are you?" Aragorn asked in Sindarin, the words falling easily from his lips despite the length of time that had passed since he'd last spoken an elven tongue. The elf gave a small gasp of surprise that involuntarily drew the ranger's gaze from the stone to his face, allowing Aragorn a brief moment to fully acknowledge the turmoil of emotions raging beneath the surface of the immortal's fey face. For the merest of breaths the ranger locked eyes with the elf before hastily forcing his gaze back to the ground, his heartbeat racing to comprehend all that had just passed between them. Within that moment Aragorn had seen realization dawning in the immortal's silver eyes; realization that Aragorn was a captive to these men and was, by no means, in support of them. He knew, simply by the surprised expression, that his words had revealed his elven upbringing. By the time their gazes had broken he knew that he'd found, at the very least, an ally.

There was a pause in which Daged waited for the merest of moments before brining the cruel whip down sharply across Aragorn's back, the jagged edges of the leather catching his skin as it descended, and the ranger was hard pressed to avoid crying out.

He exhaled deeply, releasing the breath he'd been holding, and repeated the question. This time, Daged struck him the moment the words had left his lips, catching him unaware with the suddenness of the attack. Aragorn cried in pain, his body jerking and his back arching in agony. He gasped, attempting to regain his sensibilities before being struck again, and hung his head, allowing his loose hair to fall across his face, hiding his pained expression from the elf before him.

The ranger repeated the question, the words spoken quietly from behind clenched teeth, and Daged struck him twice simultaneously, leaving the youth reeling. He gasped for breath, his muscles trembling, and shook his head slightly to rid himself of the pain induced haze of red spreading across his vision. The chains attached to the elf's manacles rattled as the immortal tugged helplessly on his bound wrists, his wide eyes now displaying his inner anguish.

'Who are you?' Aragorn asked again, stuttering over the words, and flinched immediately as Daged brought the cruel whip across his exposed back with enough strength to draw a cry of pain to the ranger's lips. He bit his lip, stifling a second cry as his master struck him again, leaving him no time to continue questioning the elf. There was, however, no need for Aragorn to continue trying to establish the elf's identity, for by now the immortal inevitably understood what was wanted of him.

Daged set a quick pace, working the skin on the ranger's back with all the malicious cruelly Aragorn knew he possessed, and the youth could do naught but clench his fists until his nails dug deep enough into his palms to draw blood and arch his back to minimize the pain as his master landed blow after blow on the ranger's skin. After half a dozen strikes Daged paused, giving Aragorn a moment to catch his breath as he switched the whip from his right arm to his left, and Aragorn dropped his head between his shoulders, panting heavily from the suppressed pain. He opened his eyes and it came as no surprise to note that his leggings were already dark and the floor on which he knelt was wet with freshly spilt blood. This was quickly becoming the worst beating that Aragorn had endured at Daged's hands and he suspected that it hadn't taken more then a handful of lashes before the skin on his back, already marred from his night with Denethor, had broken.

Pain was making Aragorn shaky and lightheaded and he gasped as the beating was resumed. Daged delivered a series of strong blows that laid stripes from his shoulders to his waist, forcing the ranger's eyes closed again. His arms were trembling badly, threatening to collapse on him, and Aragorn had no doubt that they would long before his master would cease the whipping. He knew he was crying, for he could taste the salty tears that trailed down his face and between his parted lips, and his only comfort was in the fact that he had not yet lost complete control, even though his body was shaking with his suppressed sobs. He bit his lower lip, lost between his teeth, until the telltale taste blood filled his mouth.

Daged had attained a new level of cruelty, and continued beating the young ranger without regard for his physical wellbeing, and even when his arms refused to support him and he tumbled to his elbows, pressing his tear stained face into his forearms, did his master continued to beat him with the cruel whip, tearing deeper lacerations into his torn back.

Only when he was weeping openly, his body shaking with his sobs did Daged pause at last, kneeling at the ranger's side. He knotted one hand in Aragorn's sweat soaked hair and pulled his head up, earning another moan of agony from the beaten youth.

Aragorn's eyes were hazy with pain, and his face wet with tears, and he took his weight upon arms that were shaking so badly they would hardly support him.

'Please,' he begged, abandoning his pride, 'please, make it stop.'

Daged turned his gaze onto the elf and Aragorn's eyes followed. The elf was pale and trembling and his eyes were closed, his face half turned away. It was obvious, to the ranger at least, that having Aragorn's blood on his hands weighed heavily with the immortal, but that the elf was not yet ready to abandon his pride, even to stop the cruel beating happing before him.

Daged made a disgusted sound and stood, his fist tightening painfully in Aragorn's hair. The ranger's gaze followed his master upward, fearful and speculative. Daged watched him, his eyes thoughtful, and began to trace Aragorn's mouth with his forefinger, his eyes shining with pleasure as the ranger's lips parted, allowing his master's digit to slide along his tongue. The elf was watching him, for he could feel the immortal's gaze boring into him, and though his stomach curled with sickness his position reflected nothing save complete and utter subservience. Daged's finger withdrew slowly from his mouth and lingered on his lips, running possessively over and around them before disappearing from his face all together.

'Is it true that elves die if they are taken against their will?' Daged asked Aragorn. The ranger nodded weakly, and his vision blurred at the action.

'Well, Aragorn won't fade if we rape him,' Daged said, and though his gaze as still on the youth, his comment was now aimed at the elf, 'but he'll wish he would.' Daged motioned for Tamarul and the Gondorian approached. Moments later Aragorn felt a heavy hand descend at the base of his neck and the pressure was enough to push him to the floor, his trembling arms folding to cushion his head.

The elf hesitated. He was willing to undergo many forms of torture before complying with the men that held him captive, but being forced to witness a brutal rape was not one of them, and obviously not an option he had considered. He had come to know Daged well enough, however, to know that Daged's threat had not been empty, and when his resolution broke it was a visible change that overcame the immortal. His shoulders slumped and his body sagged, heavily supported by the manacles that kept his wrists above his head. His head dropped, spilling his golden hair over his shoulders and around his face.

'Legolas,' he said quietly, and Aragorn had never heard anyone save himself sound quite so wretched and broken. 'My name is Legolas.'

Daged smiled, a triumphant gesture that held no warmth whatsoever, and moved away from Aragorn and towards the elf. He cupped Legolas' face in one hand and tipped the immortal's head upwards. Legolas kept his eyes down, unwilling to meet Daged's gaze, but there was no hint of rebellion visible throughout his body, and Daged was satisfied by what he saw.

Tamarul was behind Aragorn then, pulling him to his feet with both hands under his arms. Aragorn swayed precariously and nearly fell until Tamarul wrapped one arm around his waist, heedless of the youth's torn back, and pulled him close to the Gondorian's strong body. Aragorn leant heavily against him, his eyes closed tightly to stop the nausea that overcame him. He moaned quietly, his body trembling from head to toe, and Tamarul tightened his grip, keeping the ranger upright when his shaky legs would have refused to support him. Teetering between consciousness and oblivion, Aragorn dropped his head onto Tamarul's shoulder, sick from the pain that was coursing throughout his entire body.

'Come on, whore,' Tamarul said, adjusting the ranger with the help of the room's fifth occupant, who had simply watched the proceedings, until he was able to drag the ranger away unhindered by Aragorn's lack of coherency. Tamarul turned him away from the sight of the broken elf and guided him from the room, Legolas' voice ringing in the ranger's ears.


	5. Chapter 4

**Never Wanted This**

By IcingDeath71

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**Chapter 4**

The sex was inevitable. Aragorn had been escorted by Tamarul back to the Gondorian's own rooms since it was certain that Daged would be spending the remainder of the day interrogating the elf, and Tamarul's self restraint had lasted just long enough to get Aragorn behind closed doors.

To his credit, however, Tamarul was mindful of the lacerations along Aragorn's back and, instead of taking the ranger pressed against the wall as he threatened to do, he allowed the youth to bend over the bed frame, his stomach pressed into the mattress and his torn back exposed to the air. Aragorn, partially delirious, wept openly, his face buried in the bedspread as reflected on Daged's words.

It was true, he though, that after a day of continual abuse he wanted nothing more then to die, especially when Tamarul was claiming him with forceful, violent thrusts designed only to pain him. Tamarul had also trapped both of the ranger's wrists in one hand and had pinned them against his lower back and though they both knew the gesture was unnecessary, Aragorn had no doubt that the sight of the ranger helpless and pinned beneath Tamarul's strong body served only to excite the Gondorian.

It had been a long while since his body, becoming use to the endless abuse, had bled after a rape as it did when Tamarul was finished with him.

Afterwards, in an uncharacteristic display of kindness, the Gondorian cleaned the wounds on Aragorn's back, rinsing away the dried blood with a wet cloth. However kind the gesture may have been, having his back agitated made Aragorn sick with pain, especially when Tamarul was callous and insensitive of the ranger's hurt.

Later that night, when Aragorn returned to Daged's rooms, the hospitality he received at the hand of his master was little better then that which he had received at Tamarul's. For Daged, power and submission had ever been an aphrodisiac and his victory over the elf earlier that day and ensured that his lust was in bountiful supply. Unfortunately for the beaten ranger, it was he who was at the receiving end of Daged's apparently insatiable desire. After experiencing a violent beating and two brutal rapes in one day even Daged could see that Aragorn's broken body, weary with exhaustion, and his defeated soul, damaged beyond repair, had nothing more to offer and so allowed the ranger to succumb to unconsciousness.

Aragorn was unceremoniously awoken later that night by a strategically placed blow across the width of his back. Gasping in pain, the ranger was brutally pulled into nightmarish reality and was instantly assaulted by the overpowering stench of alcohol. He cringed away as far as his wrists, bound to the headboard, would allow, trembling in shock and fear.

Daged laughed softly, and turned, headed across the room away from the frightened ranger. Aragorn watched him, following his master's gaze to the opposite side of the room where the elf knelt. The elf, Aragorn recalled his name was Legolas, was securely bound by heavy manacles that gave him no leeway on both his wrists and his ankles. He was gagged with coarse rope tied at the back of his head, and from the rigid manner with which he held himself, Aragorn could tell that he was both upset and extremely angry.

Daged swayed as he walked, occasionally using one hand to brace himself against the wall; Aragorn recognized immediately that his master was drunk, but not intoxicated enough to be incapacitated. From previous experience, Aragorn knew Daged was an angry and violent drunk, made even more frightening by his lack of judgment under the influence of alcohol. Always in the past, when Aragorn had dealt with a drunk Daged, the result had been the same. His master would become angered and would beat the ranger, and these beatings only ended when Aragorn fell unconscious. Knowing this, Aragorn felt his fear grow, aware that his body would be unable to tolerate another round of abuse.

Daged knelt, swaying uncertainly, before Legolas and though the stench of alcohol must have been overpowering with the Gondorian so close, the only sentiment visible on the elf's proud face was anger. Daged leaned close to Legolas and Aragorn was unable to hear what he told the elf, but when he untied the gag Legolas remained silent, watching the man from out of steely eyes.

Daged returned to the bed on which Aragorn was tied, and in his hand he carried a bottle of extremely potent ale. The ranger watched warily as his master approached and was forced to bite his lip to stifle his cry of pain when Daged roughly twisted his body so he lay on his back, his wrists now crossed above his head.

Daged climbed onto the bed and straddled Aragorn's waist. The ranger watched him out of frightened eyes, tugging at the bindings around his wrists. With his free hand Daged pinched Aragorn's nose and then tipped the bottle of ale into his mouth, jamming the neck of the bottle against the roof of the ranger's mouth. Caught between swallowing the alcohol or choking, Aragorn began to drink.

The ale filled his mouth and Aragorn swallowed quickly as streams of the alcohol spilled past his lips and over his chin. Daged watched, his eyes unemotional, as the ranger's throat worked to accommodate the ale, the level in the bottle getting gradually lower. Slowly, Aragorn's face began to redden from lack of oxygen and he struggled briefly, pulling at his bound wrists. When Daged withdrew the bottle the ranger gasped thankfully, pulling air into his lungs.

His master allowed him only a brief repose before pushing the bottle back between the ranger's teeth and tipping more of the ale down Aragorn's throat. Again, the ranger was forced to drink. Aragorn swallowed the alcohol, still uncertain of Daged's intentions, his eyes closed and his head tipped backwards.

Daged continued pouring the ale until the bottle was empty. He moved off the bed, depositing the bottle by the wall, and allowed the ranger a few minutes of solitude as the alcohol began to set in.

Aragorn had never drunk so much, and had never consumed any amount of alcohol at such a speed. He lay still, his eyes closed, and waited. Gradually, the searing pain in his back began to relent and his limbs grew heavy. When he opened his eyes, his vision swam and he moaned quietly as the light assaulted his eyes.

Daged approached and with surprising speed unbound the ranger's wrists, then pulled the youth to his feet.

Aragorn gasped, leaning heavily against Daged, as the entire room spun. He swayed, nearly toppling over, and his master held him upright until the room settled into place and the nausea retreated. Daged gave Aragorn a small push in the direction of the elf and Aragorn, doubting whether he could even get his limbs to respond, began to stumble over to where Legolas knelt.

Aragorn dropped heavily to his knees before the elf, numb to the pain. He was unable to focus on the elf's face and therefore dropped his gaze to the ground, bracing his open palms against the floor as he swayed heavily, his balance having diminished considerably.

'Make him more comfortable,' Daged said, and though Aragorn could recognize his master's voice, it took him a moment of intense concentration to make sense of the words. He glanced back over his shoulder, unsure of how to interpret the order, and instantly regretted doing so as the room began to spin anew.

It did not mean, he decided, to remove the elf's restraints, however uncomfortable they appeared to be. Instead, he determined that the order carried with it a sexual connotation, as Daged's commands often did. He hesitated for a moment, uncertain of how to proceed, and then reached for the ties on Legolas' leggings, though he doubted he would be able to unknot them.

'You don't have to do this,' Legolas whispered in elvish and the ranger paused.

'Yes, I do,' he replied, his words slurred, and his eyes flickered over to Daged, who was standing off to the side, content for now merely to watch. His fingers fumbled over the ties, tugging uselessly at them.

Legolas fell silent, though he continued to watch Aragorn's ineffective attempts until at last, after what felt to Aragorn like countless tries, the ties on the elf's leggings loosened and the ranger was able to unknot them.

Daged decided upon becoming involved then, and moved behind Aragorn, dropping to his knees. The ranger paused in apprehension as Daged's hands began to caress his sides and his master's warm breath misted against the back of his neck.

'Aren't you overheating, Aragorn?' the Gondorian whispered in the ranger's ear. The youth nodded, for he had noticed that the room's temperature had mysteriously doubled in the past couple of minutes, and then stripped off his tunic. With the garment pulled over his head, whatever sense of balance he may of had vanished entirely and he toppled backwards into Daged, giggling drunkenly as his master helped pull the tunic off. Daged's following command was not verbal, but Aragorn had little problem interpreting the hand in his hair that pushed his head down towards Legolas' groin. He complied obediently, dropping his head to mouth the fabric of his leggings, and the elf shivered in either hopelessness or disgust.

The rest of the night passed as a drunken blur with the few vague moments the ranger could recall being hazy and disoriented at best. He knew that, eventually, he'd passed out on the floor for it was on the cold stone that he awoke the next morning with a head splitting hangover and his body aflame with agony.


	6. Chapter 5

**Never Wanted This**

By IcingDeath71

_Thanks to Viggomaniac for betaing!_

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**Chapter 5**

A well placed kick to his ribs served to effectively drag Aragorn back into consciousness and he moaned quietly at the pain, peering through bleary eyes to see the figure standing over him. His vision reeled and he raised one hand, rubbing his eyes.

'Get up,' Daged ordered. 'The healer will be here momentarily.'

Aragorn's confused mind managed to successfully interpret the order, and he raised his aching body onto trembling arms. The pain flared in his back at the motion, drawing a quiet cry from the ranger's lips, and he paused, gritting his teeth. Sickness welled in the pit of his stomach he closed his eyes, fighting against the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him.

He didn't, however, hesitate for too long, mindful of his master's command. With obvious difficulty, the beaten youth forced his broken body to stand on shaky legs. Daged stepped back, watching Aragorn struggle without offering aid even when the ranger swayed dangerously, reaching blindly outwards for something to balance him. He failed to find anything within his grasp and staggered, falling over his own feet. With an unrepressed sound of disgust, the Gondorian pulled one of the youth's arms over his shoulders, dragging Aragorn back to his feet and guiding the stumbling ranger over to the wall.

Aragorn moaned quietly, the pain and sickness radiating throughout his body making him lightheaded and uncoordinated. He stretched one hand out before him, bracing his body when he felt the cold stone beneath his palm. With a sigh of relief, the youth rested his forearms against the wall and dropped his head onto them, standing bent over with his legs slightly spread.

The ranger had received enough serious beating to warrant frequent visits from the healers, and Daged had made it clear numerous times how the youth was to display himself on such occasions to allow the healer easy access to his wounds. Though Aragorn felt humiliated at presenting his naked, beaten body in such a fashion, the consequences of disobeying his master were far more hurtful then shame he suffered

Aragorn waited for the healer to arrive in pained silence, biting his lower lip to keep from weeping at the hurt that assailed his body. Fire laced through his back, and the agony that dominated his body was accompanied by the soreness from spending the night on the stone floor and the inevitable sickness from consuming too much alcohol.

Daged moved behind his slave, running his eyes appreciatively over the damage he'd inflicted the day prior. It was one of the worst beating's he'd ever imposed upon Aragorn, and though he knew he should feel guilty for causing so much pain, the only emotion he felt was a cruel sense of enjoyment and the undisguised desire to hurt the ranger further. He was aware, however, that Aragorn's body could only sustain so much abuse before it quit on him, and knew he was getting precariously close to pushing it past its limits.

Aragorn flinched as Daged ran his callused hands down the ranger's sides, his body trying to draw away from his master's unwelcome touch before the youth schooled himself back to impassiveness. Daged chuckled quietly to himself and slipped his hands between Aragorn's parted thighs to stroke the soft skin before moving his attention to the ranger's bruised backside. His fingers slipped between the crease, playing over the youth's flesh.

'Please,' Aragorn whispered, his voice broken in defeat. 'Don't.' His body trembled in horror, and Daged paused in his ministrations.

'I didn't hear you, whore.'

'Please,' Aragorn begged shamelessly, his voice rising from a whisper in hopes of placating his master with his suppliant behavior. 'I can't do this again, not so soon.'

'You don't have a choice,' Daged snarled, pushing two dry finger past the barrier of Aragorn's body. The young ranger moaned through clenched teeth and Daged twisted the digits roughly inside his body. 'What do you think the healer will say when he comes to tend to you and finds my fresh seed staining your thighs?'

Aragorn simply shook his head. 'Please,' he whispered helplessly. 'Please, no.'

To Aragorn's surprise, Daged's fingers paused and then withdrew entirely. The Gondorian moved beside the ranger and grabbed a handful of the youth's tangled hair, forcing his head up and their eyes to meet. Aragorn watched him fearfully out of teary, pain glazed eyes.

The door beside them opened then and the healer entered. Daged moved away from the wall as he approached, and Aragorn wrenched his gaze away from Daged, trembling from head to toe. The healer rummaged through the bag he was carrying and Aragorn's body jerked in pain when the healer's hands touched his back, rubbing healing salve into the youth's many lacerations. Aragorn hissed through clenched teeth as ribbons of pain shot through his back, causing a red haze to spread across his vision. He moaned, dropping his head back to his arms, and bit his tongue to stop more shameful sounds from passing his lips.

After cleaning and dressing the lacerations, the healer wrapped them as best he could, using long white bandages that circled Aragorn's ribcage. Once he was finished with the youth's back, his attention dropped lower, to the ranger's backside.

Again, Aragorn had the unpleasant sensation of fingers probing at him, this time coated with healing salve. The ranger bit his lip as two fingers pushed their way into his body, aggravating the torn flesh. He moaned quietly, forcing his body to relax and remain still as the healer coated him with more salve.

At last the healer moved away and told Daged that he'd done all he could for Aragorn. The ranger, dizzy with pain, nearly cried out when his master grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and twisted him around, pushing him to his knees before the healer.

'You know what to do,' he growled.

Aragorn did. Daged always paid off the healer's visits by granting them the use of Aragorn's mouth for their pleasure after they had tended to his body and Aragorn stoically accepted what he could only interpret as more punishment without visible signs of complaint, though to be offered in such a lurid fashion was a severe blow. He undid the ties on the healer's drawstrings with shaking hands, forcing the leggings past the man's hips. He closed his eyes and refused to look at the healer's face, for he'd learned from previous experience that looking in their eyes only gave the figures in his nightmares faces.

The healer held the trembling ranger still with one hand in his hair and freed his arousal with the other, nudging the blunt head against Aragorn's lips. Aragorn opened his mouth obediently and the healer dropped both hands onto the ranger's head, holding him stationary while he thrust into the youth's mouth. Aragorn remained motionless, allowing the man to buck his hips and force his length down the ranger's throat, heedless of the hot tears that leaked from beneath the youth's lowered lashes. The Gondorian gripped his hair tightly, pulling roughly in his mounting excitement, and tipped Aragorn's head back to allow him a better angle to ravage the youth's mouth.

His throat burned and breathing was difficult. Aragorn accepted the healer's brutal handling without complaint, gasping for air whenever he was allowed. He worked his lips and tongue as best he could, making quick work of the healer and bringing the man to completion as quickly as possible.

Aragorn nearly gagged when the healer tugged his hair forcibly, forcing his flesh into Aragorn's mouth as he came in hot waves down the ranger's throat with a loud moan. His body jerked in pleasure, and the youth stifled a cry as the man's seed spilled down his throat, hot flesh pulsing between his lips.

After a moment, the man withdrew his erection from the ranger's swollen lips, his hands releasing his fistfuls of tangled hair and caressing Aragorn's face tenderly.

Aragorn remained on his knees, he shoulders bowed and his head downcast as the healer tugged his leggings back up over his hips, thanked Daged, and then departed. He was crying again, so full of pain and misery it was hard to distinguish exactly what had set him off this time.

Daged knelt beside him, turning the ranger's face upwards with one hand beneath his chin. Aragorn wept bitterly, unable to hide his shame from his cruel master. Daged smiled maliciously and captured the tears on the forefinger of his free hand, raising the digit to his lips as though savoring the taste.

'A delicacy I'll never grow tired of,' he murmured, pushing Aragorn backwards onto the floor and grinding his hips against the youth's body, purring in pleasure. He pressed his lips against Aragorn's and reached one hand between their bodies to touch the youth as Aragorn eagerly embraced the state of oblivion that accompanied the pleasure Daged supplied.

_xxxxx_

When Daged had promised to have Aragorn for dessert, the youth considered it to be a metaphorical remark. He'd never expected to be laid back against his master's work desk, wrists bound above his head and ankles secured to the table legs with honey drizzled in patterns across his naked upper body. To make matters even worse, Daged had stimulated Aragorn until he was begged for release, and then bound the youth's straining erection with leather ties to insure he remained in a state of painful arousal. Trapped as he was on his back with his hips hanging off the edge of the desk, his condition was impossible to ignore.

To his utter humiliation, it wasn't Daged alone that witnessed this new form of degradation. His master had called a late night counsel with some of his commanders, and Aragorn had been helpless to protest as a platter of succulent fruit was placed beside his body as an open invitation to any of the men present. Tamarul, of course, had seated himself nearest to the ranger, his lusty eyes drinking in the sensual display. It amused him to no end to see Aragorn flaunted in such a fashion, and he took great pleasure in eliciting what responses he could from the vulnerable youth.

Daged's second in command took one of the apple slices from the platter and ran it through the honey that pooled in Aragorn's navel. The ranger shivered at the sensation, clenching his hands into fists in their bonds, and Tamarul ran the piece of fruit up the ranger's stomach, purposefully swiping it across the bound youth's nipple. His dark eyes watched the spectacle with growing arousal, circling the peaked flesh until a quiet moan of frustrated desire passed Aragorn's lips.

To Aragorn's extreme relief, Daged had allowed his young slave a few days to recuperate before forcing him back into his hated position as a sex slave with renewed vigor. The ranger had been able to rest for a couple of days, his body trapped in a deep healing sleep. When he'd awoken, the worst of his hurts had healed and he was physically able to continue in the nightmare that had become his life.

Daged approached, smiling in pleasure as his eyes swept unrestrained along Aragorn's torso. The youth wet his dry lips with his tongue, watching his master in growing frustration as Daged grazed one hand deliberately over the ranger's clothed groin before moving towards the platter of fruit. He selected a slice of melon and dipped it into the honey at Aragorn's collarbone, then sucked the sweetness away from the fruit before offering it to his slave. The youth, having been deprived of food for the past day, accepted the fruit without hesitation, his tongue curling sinuously around Daged's fingers. Daged smiled, running the pad of his thumb along Aragorn's cheekbone.

'My gratitude for the treat,' Tamarul said, turning to face his commander. Aragorn closed his eyes, pressing his face against the wood of the table on which he was bound.

'You'd be wise to enjoy it while you can, for I'm not often willing to share my toy.' Daged replied, his soft words reaching Aragorn's ears. He flinched as another slice of fruit brushed against his body, unaware of whom it was tormenting him this time, and sucked his lower lip between his teeth as thrills of pleasure raced through his body. A finger circled one of his nipples slowly, teasing him mercilessly.

A voice he was unable to recognize spoke, addressing his master, but Aragorn was unable to focus upon the words as another hand dropped to his groin, rubbing the bulge between his legs. He moaned unashamedly, tugging helplessly against the bonds that kept his wrists above his head, and arched his back as much as the ties would allow, panting in pleasure.

'Stop teasing him,' Daged said, and the hand withdrew. A breathy chuckle reached Aragorn's ears and he bit his lip until he tasted blood on his tongue.

'You make frequent remarks about his disobedience, but he doesn't appear rebellious in the least to me.' The third man said, tracing a line from Aragorn's navel to his throat with one finger.

'It's because he's been drugged,' his master replied, a hint of smugness in his voice.

'Ah.' The three men surrounding him laughed, three sets of hands reaching out to caress his body, and Aragorn writhed and moaned unashamedly, arching his back in pleasure. A pair of lips brushed against his own and the ranger could tell from the familiar taste that they belonged to Daged, and Tamarul took advantage of his commander's distraction to slip his hand below the waistband of Aragorn's leggings.

Daged swallowed the gasp that passed from his slaves lips, raising his eyes to glare a warning at his second in command. He withdrew his mouth, placing two of his fingers between the ranger's lips.

'So pretty,' the third man murmured and Aragorn opened his eyes, but was unable to place the man's face. 'Does he taste as sweet as he looks?'

'Of course,' Daged replied, taking another piece of fruit and slathering it in the honey from Aragorn's chest. 'But as pleasing at he may be, we do have matters to discuss, and we cannot spend all night tormenting my slave.'

Aragorn moaned breathily as the men withdrew and met Tamarul's lusty gaze with eyes dark with need. Tamarul narrowed his eyes, a smile playing across his lips, and leaned away to speak with Daged.

'Not tonight,' Daged said, glancing quickly towards Aragorn. 'I will, however, have the elf sent to your chambers, and you may do with him as you please.'

Soon the rest of the men Daged had summoned had arrived and Aragorn shifted uncomfortably on the desk as talk turned to strengthening the border guard in the south and of sending more men to Osgiliath. Before long the ranger's attention began to stray, having no interest in such matters.

The honey that had decorated his chest had begun to trickle down his sides, dripping onto the wood on which he was bound. He shifted, trying to ease the cramp in his lower back, and his skin itched where the sticky honey made its way down his ribs. He sighed in frustration as the minutes past, his mind wandering in boredom.

The meeting went far too long for Aragorn's comfort, the effect of the drug Daged had slipped the unknowing ranger increasing gradually over time. His body ached to be touched and his need to be satisfied grew until the young ranger could think of little else. His breath came in heavy pants, his blood pooling in his groin, and he was nearly to the point of begging for attention when, at long last, Daged called the meeting to a close.

His master waited until everyone had left before approaching Aragorn. The ranger's eyes shone in desire and in frustration, and he turned his head eagerly to follow Daged as his master moved before him, resting one hand on the youth's groin. Aragorn moaned gratefully at the contact, bucking his hips upwards into the welcomed touch, and Daged obliged him by slipping the youth's leggings below his hips and stroking his arousal with a firm hand.

Aragorn could have wept in relief, and very nearly wept when his master withdrew his hand.

'Please,' he begged, his voice thick with need. 'Please, touch me.'

Daged shook his head, a sympathetic smile on his lips. 'No. I promised Tamarul that I'd send the elf to him, but I think we should enjoy his company first. Don't you agree?'

Aragorn would have agreed to anything at that point if it meant release. He nodded, his mind hazy with desire, and was rewarded with a passionate kiss.

'I'll return at once,' Daged said as he withdrew. Aragorn groaned in arousal, his back arching as he sought contact, but his master merely smiled and shook his head. He turned away, leaving an extremely aroused and half naked Aragorn alone in his study.


	7. Chapter 6

**Never Wanted This**

By IcingDeath71

_A/N_ : Please review. I'm much more inspired to write faster if I believe my work is enjoyed and appreciated, and from this chapter on I'm going to try to respond to every reviewer via email and personally thank every one of you.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

When Daged returned with Legolas in tow, Aragorn had slipped so far into the drug induced haze he was unable to recognize the situation he'd initiated. All he knew was that every nerve in his body was alight with desire, and that the man capable of ending this cruel torture had arrived. He begged shamelessly, voicing lurid suggestions that he knew Daged would be unable to ignore. The entire time he remained completely oblivious of his demeaning behavior, his actions a direct influence of the drug coursing through his system.

The night passed as a drunken blur with Aragorn shifting from a drug provoked haze to pleasure induced oblivion. He recalled nothing of his eager advanced upon Legolas, nor of the demoralizing deeds he'd performed. Daged had given him a far larger dose of the drug then was healthy and Aragorn's night ended only when his tortured body quit on him, dropping the youth into unconsciousness from which his master was unable to wake him.

When Aragorn awoke the next day he was plagued by a sickness in the pit of his stomach that had naught to do with physical illness; his actions the night prior must have been awful indeed judging by the immensely satisfied expression on Daged's face. To make matters even worse, Aragorn had a few, extremely hazy memories of Legolas' involvement and the elf's current absence worried him. Legolas had not been present when Aragorn had awoken and the ranger was sickened to learn that, after taking part in the muddled events of the night prior, the elf had been sent to Tamarul's rooms.

To Aragorn's infinite relief Daged dismissed the youth from his side early in the day once it became apparent that the amount of work he had still to complete would allow him no time to spend enjoying his slave. Aragorn went immediately to Minas Tirith's gardens, desperate for fresh air. Free of his stone prison he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, allowing the fresh air to sooth both his frazzled nerves and the sickness in his stomach. He walked along the courtyard wall until he came upon a patch of earth shaded by a young sapling and seated himself on the ground, resting his still healing back gingerly against the solid wall. He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, then tipped his head backwards and allowed his eyes to fall shut.

His solitude was disrupted before long by the approach of booted feet and the young ranger opened his eyes, his gut wrenching as he recognized Tamarul's swaggering gait. The Gondorian noticed Aragorn immediately, despite the youth's best attempts to make himself as inconspicuous as possible, and after a quick glance to ensure Daged was not present, approached the ranger eagerly.

Tamarul knelt before the youth, his smile broadening at his good fortune.

'All alone, Aragorn? You, of all people, should know better then to wander Minas Tirith by yourself.'

'I've been given leave to visit the gardens,' Aragorn replied quietly, watching Tamarul from eyes dark with mistrust. Tamarul laughed, pleased by the fear and apprehension his close proximity awoke within the ranger.

'I hear you had quite a night with my elf,' Tamarul teased, running his eyes garishly over Aragorn's body in suggestion. The ranger stiffened and tried unsuccessfully to hide the horror that welled up in his chest at the Gondorian's words.

Tamarul laughed. 'You don't remember?' he said, eyes shinning in enjoyment. 'Anything?'

Aragorn clenched his jaw, feeling heat rise in his face. The fact that Tamarul obviously knew exactly what Aragorn dreaded to hear unnerved the young ranger and he shook his head slightly in denial, his heartbeat quickening in his chest.

'Perhaps I can remind you…'

Tamarul grabbed a handful of Aragorn's fractious curls and pulled the ranger's face towards his own, pressing his mouth eagerly against the youth's. Aragorn, having anticipated the action, resisted forcefully, twisting his face aside to avoid the Gondorian's unwelcome attention and pushing Tamarul away with both hands on the man's broad chest.

Displeased by the ranger's antics Tamarul switched tactics, grabbing Aragorn forcefully by the shoulders and pinning the youth's wounded back against the rough stone. Aragorn cried out in pain, his body arching under the brutal assault, and Tamarul took full advantage of the ranger's weakness to claim his mouth. The Gondorian pushed his tongue past Aragorn's parted lips, heedless of the spasms of agony that shuddered through the young ranger's slender frame.

Groaning in pleasure, Tamarul moved his mouth frantically against unresisting lips, running his tongue hungrily across Aragorn's. The ranger squirmed, trying unsuccessfully to push his sore shoulders away from the wall, and Tamarul shoved him forcefully, digging his fingers into the youth's flesh until Aragorn was dizzy with pain.

Aragorn was aware that Tamarul's mouth had left his own and could feel the man's rough stubble scratching against his face and neck as the Gondorian nuzzled and mouthed at the warm skin, his breath coming quicker in his excitement. Trembling, Aragorn ceased his struggles, sickened by the other man's actions. Tamarul purred in approval, nipping his way up the young ranger's exposed neck and catching Aragorn's earlobe in his teeth.

Tamarul took Aragorn's wrist in his hand and drew the youth's hand to the Gondorian's loins, pressing Aragorn's palm against his heated arousal. Aragorn tried to pull his hand away but Tamarul tightened his grip, halting the ranger's withdrawal.

'If you do not do this for me, I'll simply return to my rooms and take my pleasures from the elf.' Tamarul's breath was warm in the youth's ear, his voice dark with promise. He paused for a moment while Aragorn processed his words, then rocked back onto his heels, watching the young ranger shrewdly.

Aragorn hesitated, his indecisiveness plain upon his fair face. Tamarul watched him for a moment longer from narrowed eyes then stood. He gave the youth a final look before turning on his heel and walking away.

Aragorn was a heartbeat behind him, scrambling gracelessly to his feet and grabbing a handful of the other man's cloak in his grip.

'Don't go,' Aragorn said, his face flushing in shame. 'Please. Don't go.'

Tamarul smiled triumphantly and neither he nor his unfortunate victim noticed Daged, who rounded the corner just in time to catch Aragorn's desperate plea. Daged stopped in his tracks, shocked into immobility by the scene unfolding before his eyes.

Aragorn released the fistful of Tamarul's cloak he'd grabbed and hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. Tamarul was watching him with eyes alight with triumph, offering no direction, and when Aragorn moved forwards to nuzzle and lick at his neck the Gondorian rested one hand on the back of the ranger's head, sighing deeply in pleasure.

Aragorn's lips caressed the weathered skin as his shaking hands dropped to the clasps on Tamarul's tunic, unbuttoning the garment clumsily. Once opened, his hands stroked the warm skin underneath, slipping upwards to play across the Gondorian's broad chest.

'Such a whore,' Tamarul murmured and heat rose in Aragorn's face at the degrading words. He continued his ministrations, bowing his head as he ran his tongue across Tamarul's collarbone and down his chest before circling back upwards as his hands continued to touch and tease.

Eventually, Tamarul tired of the teasing and the hand in Aragorn's hair increased its pressure, pushing the ranger downwards. The youth dropped obediently to his knees and began immediately to mouth at Tamarul's clothed groin. He pressed his mouth against the stretched fabric and hummed and Tamarul's hands tightened in his hair, his body tensing in pleasure.

Before Aragorn was able to progress any further movement at the corner of his eye drew his attention and he froze in horror as Daged approached them. Notified by Aragorn's reaction, Tamarul turned to watch his commander. Neither of them misinterpreted Daged's fury and Aragorn was quick to gain his feet, heart beating rapidly in terror.

Daged's gaze lingered only briefly on Tamarul before turning his full attention on the frightened ranger. Aragorn instinctively stepped back a pace, blind terror overcoming his sensibilities and Daged made a grab for him, one hand fisting in Aragorn's tunic and the other wrapping around his throat.

Aragorn struggled franticly, but pinned between Daged's body and the solid wall at his back he had no chance of escape, especially when his master's hand tightened, cutting off the ranger's air. Despite his efforts, his struggles diminished as he gasped for air until blackness was hovering around the edge of his vision and he rested limply against the wall, kept upright only by Daged's hands. Daged released his grip a fraction, allowing the ranger just enough air to remain conscious.

'Who am I to refuse his advances?' Tamarul was saying. 'If he's so eager to find someone to use his body, I'm hardly able to decline. Besides, had I not agreed, who knows how many other men he may have attempted to seduce?'

Daged's eyes were dark with malice and he leaned forwards until his face was inches from Aragorn's own.

'Since you're so eager to pleasure my men, you should have no qualms about doing just that,' he hissed. 'You'll soon have the chance to serve every one of them.'

Even through the haze that threatened to claim his ability to process rational thought, Aragorn had little problem recognizing that he'd quickly become immersed in a situation that was beyond his ability to handle.

_xxxxx_

Legolas was alone in Daged's chambers when Aragorn finally returned. The ranger stumbled inside and even from across the room Legolas could tell the youth was wearied to exhaustion. Aragorn raised one hand and pushed his hair away from his face and when Legolas got to his feet the young human startled, momentarily panicked to learn that he wasn't alone.

Aragorn dropped his gaze quickly and he stood still, arms wrapped protectively around his body.

'Where is Daged?' Aragorn asked, and his voice was rough and gravely. He turned away, trying to hide the tremors that racked his slender frame. Concerned, Legolas got to his feet and approached the ranger, reaching a hand to his shoulder.

'Do not touch me!' Aragorn snapped, panic in his voice. He flinched away, his eyes wide with terror.

Legolas dropped his hands back to his side and stepped back, shaken by the ranger's violent reaction.

'Ai, Aragorn.' His voice was soft and soothing and he spoke as he would to a skittish horse. 'What did they do to you?'

It was a theoretical question, and the elf expected no answer. To his surprise, however, all of the tension vanished from Aragorn's body and the youth sagged back against the wall, weeping bitterly. His unruly hair spilled across his face and only then did Legolas notice the semen that stained his fractious locks, evidence of his torturer's pleasures upon his body.

'I-I can't do this anymore, Legolas,' Aragorn choked, falling to his knees in grief. 'I just can't. He's killing me. They're killing me.'

Legolas knelt slowly, gently pushing Aragorn's hair away from his face and meeting the ranger's horror filled eyes. Aragorn made no effort to hide his tears from the elf, and when Legolas wrapped his strong arms around the youth's shoulders the ranger leaned into the embrace.

'They blindfolded me. I could not see how many they numbered,' Aragorn sobbed, his voice broken with defeat and shame. 'I was so frightened. They forced me into submission, and then they took turns finding their pleasure. One of them would take my mouth while another rode my body. They touched me, though I was too sickened by their touch to find any pleasure at their hands.'

'Oh, Aragorn,' Legolas murmured, holding the man against his body. He could feel the youth trembling under his hands. The elf pressed his palms against Aragorn's back, feeling the tremors, and sadness welled up in his heart. Though his time with the ranger had been both limited and subjective, Legolas had quickly come to see that despite the horrors he'd been subjected to, Aragorn was still the kindest, gentlest man the elf had ever met and his heart went out to the broken youth. Legolas wished he had the power to melt away Aragorn's hurt, but settled instead for holding him while he wept, comforting him as he may.

Legolas held Aragorn until the ranger's tears subsided, offering his physical support to the unfortunate youth. He murmured quietly in the elf tongue, and though his words were nonsense, hearing them soothed Aragorn, whose trembles slowly subsided.

'Thank you,' Aragorn whispered, his voice broken from tears. He raised his head from the elf's shoulder and Legolas was captivated by the raw emotion in the ranger's eyes. The immortal raised both hands to the rangers face and caressed his tear stained cheeks, catching the moisture on his fingertips.

'You are not as alone as you believe, Aragorn. I will help see you through this.'

Aragorn sighed and closed his eyes, physically and emotionally drained.

'Legolas,' he whispered, his voice so soft that only due to his elven hearing was Legolas able to make out his words, 'will you watch over me while I sleep? Will you wake me if-if Daged returns?'

'Of course,' the elf promised, wrapping one arm around Aragorn's shoulders and helping the youth to his feet. The ranger swayed in exhaustion as Legolas guided him to the bed and lowered him gently onto the mattress.

'Of course,' Legolas reiterated, and within minutes Aragorn had succumbed to dreams.


	8. Chapter 7

**Never Wanted This**

By IcingDeath71

_Beta-ed by Viggomaniac -hugs-_

_A/N_ : I'm honestly trying to update at least once a month, so new chapters should be quicker in coming. Also, check out my livejournal (homepage on my profile) for extra reading material.

And please review. -poke poke-

* * *

**Chapter 7**

'Aragorn,' Legolas shook the ranger's shoulder gently, drawing him from sleep. 'Aragorn, someone approaches.'

The youth moaned groggily, slowly pushing his body up onto his elbows. He rested his weight against one hand as he used the other to ineffectually attempt to wipe sleep from his eyes.

'How long was I asleep?' Aragorn rasped.

'Half of the night,' Legolas replied.

Aragorn pressed the heels of his hands into his closed eyes. He was sick from exhaustion; his eyes burned and his head pounded angrily. The fear that never seemed to vanish entirely was growing again, and he could feel his body trembling. Legolas rested one hand against the beaten youth's shoulder and the ranger's tremors subsided at his touch.

Nearly a full minute passed before Aragorn was able to hear the sound of voices approaching in the hallway. He raised in his head, unable to suppress the fear that rose inside him at violent crescendo, and when he heard the unmistakable sound of keys at the door, he stiffened perceptibly, his body beginning to tremble anew.

Legolas was watching him with concern, and Aragorn knew that it pained the elf to see him unraveling in such a manner. He turned frightened eyes onto the immortal, desperate for reassurance, and Legolas gave him a shaky half smile.

The door opened and Daged entered the room, accompanied by Denethor. Denethor's eyes instantly sought out Aragorn and the youth felt panic well inside of him at the hungry expression in the Gondorian's dark eyes.

Daged stopped, surveying them both with a critical eye, the corners of his mouth twitching in a smirk.

'Take the whore,' he told Denethor, waving his hand carelessly towards Aragorn. When Denethor began to approach, Legolas got to his feet, halting Denethor's advance.

'Let him be,' the elf said quietly, a hint of anger perceptible his voice. Denethor's steps faltered in surprise, so shocked was he at being spoken to in such a fashion.

'Hold your tongue, slave, less I decide to tear it from your mouth,' Denethor snapped. 'Have you no notion to whom you speak? I am Denethor, son of Ecthelion, and am the only individual within these walls to have shown Aragorn the slightest bit of kindness.'

'Kindness?' Legolas sneered, his words coloured with contempt. 'You feign kindness and drug Aragorn into submission to dull his cries of pain because you are ashamed to look into the mirror and recognize yourself as a pitiless rapist. The only way you could possibly show him any kindness would to be leave him alone, for he suffers enough without your added abuse.'

Aragorn felt frozen in place, watching the exchange in terror. Denethor's eyes were alight with anger and his hands were clenched into white knuckled fists at his side.

'If, as you claim, you were in any way kind, you would exercise your power over Daged and release Aragorn from his clutches, but rather than do so, you would benefit from his captivity.'

'Silence, Legolas,' Daged ordered, stepping forwards then and throwing the elf a look so full of malice that the immortal faltered momentarily, and within that moment Daged succeeded in grabbing him forcefully by the arm and throwing him backwards against the wall, catching both of Legolas' wrists and pinning him against the stone. The elf struggled briefly, which only fueled Daged's anger, and succeeded in encouraging the man to release one wrist just long enough to land a blow on the side of the immortal's head.

Legolas ceased his struggles and stilled, watching Daged from eyes dark with anger.

'Legolas,' Aragorn whispered in horror, struggling to his feet. Daged's eyes darted to the youth, a cruel smile playing across his lips.

'Quiet, Aragorn!' Legolas snapped, struggling forcefully against Daged's grip. His struggles drew the Gondorian's attention away from the ranger and back to the elf, and Daged snarled in anger.

'Perhaps you need to be reminded of your place,' Daged threatened, forcing the elf towards the door.

Watching the retreating elf, Aragorn felt nauseous. The immortal risked a quick glance over his shoulder, locking gazes with the ranger. Aragorn saw, reflected in his eyes, honest fear as well as a flash of … triumph?

Sickness welled in Aragorn's stomach as the realization hit him that Legolas had purposefully sacrificed himself in order to spare the ranger any further pain that night. With a final, fleeting look at the pale youth, Denethor followed Daged out of the room, the door closing behind him with finality.

_xxxxx_

Daged did not return that night, nor the next day. Aragorn spent the hours alone in his master's chambers as he was not permitted to wander Minas Tirith without Daged's leave, and even though remaining in the Gondorian's quarters meant that the ranger received no food that day, going hungry was a small price to pay for solitude.

Legolas' virtue, however, was not.

Alone with his thoughts, Aragorn couldn't help but imagine what type of punishment Daged would inflict upon the elf. He felt sick each time he reflected on Legolas' actions, and knowing that he was the reason the immortal would be hurt weighed heavily upon his heart.

Daged returned later that night. Sleep eluded Aragorn, and the ranger was sitting on the window sill, watching the stars in silent contemplation. He turned wary eyes upon his master, a thrill of terror racing up his spine as he took in the dried blood splashed on the front of Daged's tunic.

'The elf bleeds like a stuck pig,' his master muttered, pulling the dirty tunic over his head and discarding it carelessly on the floor. He motioned to Aragorn, who approached slowly.

'Tend to me,' Daged ordered. Aragorn unclothed his master his master in silence. He gathered the blood stained tunic from the floor and put Daged's clothing in the hamper for the servants to clean. By then, Daged had made his way to the bed and was laying on his back, watching Aragorn return to his side.

'Is there anything else I can do for you?' Aragorn asked quietly.

'You can bathe,' Daged told him, closing his eyes. 'You smell filthy.'

By the time Aragorn returned from the bathhouse, Daged was asleep, and for a moment Aragorn contemplated waking him. The young ranger could not remember the last time his master had gone to sleep without first using his slave. He banished the thought quickly, and after shedding the leggings he'd worn to the bathhouse and back, crawled into bed beside Daged even though being close to the man who caused so much pain was the last thing he wanted to do. Aragorn spent a sleepless night, the image of the elf's blood on Daged's clothing a vivid image in his mind.


	9. Chapter 8

**Never Wanted This**

By IcingDeath71

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**Chapter 8**

Aragorn hung suspended from the manacles that dangled from the roof, his fists wrapped tightly around the chains. He panted and gasped with each blow of the lash upon his naked back, his body swinging forward and arching against the pain.

Before him stood Daged, watching the ranger from eyes alight with perverted pleasure. One hand held the youth's face, keeping his eyes trained on his master, and the other had disappeared below the waistband of his own leggings, casually stroking his arousal. He purred in delight, his body trembling with desire, and his fingers tightened as Aragorn's face tensed in pain, a quite gasp slipping past his parted lips.

Behind him, Tamarul wielded a braided rope lash instead of the jagged leather whip he often favored to spare the youth's still healing back. The physical damaged the rope lash wrecked on Aragorn was minimal, but Tamarul wielded the weapon with frightening accuracy and the pain was no less then that caused by any other whip.

Daged tipped Aragorn's face up further, his nails creating crescent moon shaped bruises on the youth's skin. Aragorn trembled, his body arching towards his master as another blow rocked him forwards onto his toes, another line of fire flaring across the young ranger's beaten back.

Daged stepped closer, flashing a quick glance over Aragorn's shoulder to stop Tamarul. The beating ceased and the only sound in the small stone room was the youth's loud, harsh panting. He watched his master with apprehension and when Daged withdrew his hand from his own leggings and slipped it instead between the ranger's legs, he found the youth eager for his touch. Aragorn moaned quietly and wet his lips with his tongue, his lashes fluttering as his master wrapped his hand around the ranger's growing arousal, feeling his flesh swell in Daged's palm.

Daged's callused fingers began to caress the young ranger's skin, and Aragorn closed his eyes. He was exhausted, wearier then he could ever recall feeling. His physical strength was hardly enough to keep him on his feet, and he had no mind left to rebel against his master's vile actions.

It had been over a week since Aragorn had last seen Legolas, and during that time Daged had begun to spend longer days with the elf. During his master's absence, Aragorn's time was divided between Denethor and now Tamarul, who had finally succeeded in making some type of deal with Daged to allow him the pleasures of his young slave. Attempting to sate the desires of three men gave the young ranger little time to revitalize, and he was in a constant state of fatigue.

Aragorn began to moan in pleasure, his body instantly submitting to Daged's touch. With no strength left to fight back, the ranger was filled with the desire only to submit, seeking to appease the men who tormented him. His knees buckled and pain flared in his wrists and shoulders as they strained against the manacles that kept him upright and he struggled to regain his footing, and then Daged's hand was touching him in marvelous ways and his attention was once again on the pleasure his master could bestow.

Aragorn was caught off guard as Tamarul landed a vicious blow on his back at the same time that Daged tugged forcefully on his arousal. He cried out in both pain and pleasure, his body tensing and jerking, and was hardly allowed a moment to catch his breath before another blow caught him between his shoulder blades as Daged's fist twisted and pulled, leaving the shaking youth gasping for breath.

Daged released Aragorn's face, his second hand slipping farther between the youth's spread legs. Aragorn moaned again, heavy with desire, and his hips jerked backwards on their own accord, shamelessly begging for Daged to end his taunting. Tamarul laughed aloud, and as he nudged backwards yet again, the Gondorian landed another blow on his sweaty back.

The pleasure rippling through his body was instantly contending against the pain of Tamarul's lash. Daged continued thrusting his fingers gently into Aragorn's body, his second hand tugging rhythmically on the youth's aching flesh, and Tamarul lay blow after blow on his exposed skin.

Aragorn cried out as pain and pleasure mingled, unable to make out where one began and the other ended. Caught between Daged's hands and Tamarul's lash, his body danced to the cruel rhythm they set, jerking and arching as leather and flesh played across his skin.

His cries grew louder, his body trembling. Tamarul was focusing on the sensitive spot below Aragorn's right shoulder, making his body twist and writhe in agony. His body shook from the stimulation, and both men redoubled their efforts. Tamarul's blows came harder and faster, and Daged succeeded in pushing three of his fingers into the ranger's writing body, earning a cry of sheer pleasure.

He felt the beginnings of tears on his lashes, and within moment they were spilling down his cheeks. His back was aflame with agony, and blood pooled in his groin as his pleasure grew.

'Valar,' he whimpered, his hips jerking forwards and back, 'please.'

Daged's hand tightened cruelly, his fingers curled just so, and he pressed his mouth over the ranger's to smother his cry. With a final jerk of his fist and one last blow upon his back Aragorn came with a shout, his warm seed spilling over Daged's hand. His knees buckled, weak with effort, and he hung limply from his wrists, breathing hard.

He dangled lifelessly, his heart racing in his ears, and clung hopefully to the last remnants of the pleasure that echoed throughout his body. So exhausted was he, his body failed to react in it's customary disgust as Tamarul's hot erection rubbed against his naked backside, thrusting his hips against unresisting flesh. It came as no surprise when, minutes later, the Gondorian spilled his seed onto Aragorn's body, moaning and groaning in delight.

Aragorn opened his eyes, watching his master. Any urge to resist had deserted him, and when Daged undid the manacles above the youth's head and Aragorn fell gracelessly to the ground, he raised himself onto shaking arms and knelt before his master in submission, ready to surrender to whatever else Daged may ask of him.

'Use your mouth,' his master ordered, his voice strained with suppressed arousal. Aragorn obeyed immediately, his fingers trembling as they undid they ties on Daged's leggings, and then guided the man's erection to his lips.

He made quick work of Daged, whose arousal had grown to unbearable heights while tormenting his young slave. Daged fisted his hands in Aragorn's hair, holding his head still, and thrust his hips frantically, forcing his length down the youth's throat. When Daged came, he gave a low moan, withdrawing from the ranger's mouth to spill his seed on Aragorn's face.

After a minute of harsh panting, Daged finally released the youth's hair and retied his leggings. Had he had any strength left to express emotion, Aragorn would certainly have felt surprise when Daged dropped to a crouch before him, reaching out one hand to steady the shaky youth.

'You pleased me today,' he said, gracing the young ranger with a rare, genuine smile.

'Thank you,' Aragorn muttered in reply. He longed for nothing other then repose, and would willingly have dropped where he knelt and succumbed to sleep.

Daged, obviously sensing his slave's exhaustion, wrapped one arm around Aragorn's shoulders and guided him to his feet. After a brief moment in which he thanked Tamarul for his aid, he led the stumbling ranger from the room, directing him to their chambers. Semi conscious, already half asleep, Aragorn murmured his gratitude repeatedly. Even through the haze that clouded his mind, he could tell his master was pleased with him, and he wanted to keep Daged from becoming angry so badly it ached. He fawned shamelessly, thanking Daged continually for both the pleasure he had been granted and his master's undeserving kindness.

When they reached their quarters, Daged led Aragorn immediately to the bed and the ranger retained his sensibilities just long enough to crawl under the covers before finally allowing sleep to claim him, completely unaware of the elf's sorrowful eyes that watched him from across the room.

_xxxxx_

Aragorn was awoken after what felt like far too few minutes of sleep, though judging by the light that spilled into the room it had been hours since he'd returned from his session with Daged and Tamarul.

'I'm sorry to wake you,' Legolas apologized, his voice soft and sympathetic, 'but I don't know when Daged will leave us alone again.'

Aragorn's head ached fiercely and his body was sore to the bone, but he recognized the truth in the elf's words and with a groan of effort, raised his body onto shaking arms and rested his back cautiously against the headboard of the bed. He blinked tiredly, his lids heavy from many sleepless nights, and forced away the tantalizing suggestion of slumber.

'How are you?' the young ranger asked, his voice rough and gravely.

'Me? Fine.' Legolas leaned forwards, casually shrugging away the inquiry of his health. 'It's you I'm worried about.'

Aragorn was silent, having no reply for such a statement. The elf's eyes darkened with worry, troubled by the ranger's silence. Despite knowing the truth, he had obviously anticipated an answer similar to his own.

'How do you fare?' Legolas prodded.

Aragorn sighed heavily.

'Poorly,' he admitted, meeting the elf's concerned gaze. Legolas raised one hand, touching the crow's feet at the corner of Aragorn's eyes, smoothing away the lines of exhaustion.

'I worry for you,' Legolas replied truthfully. 'Daged is a cruel man, and he's wearing away at your very soul. I can see it in your face; your will to survive is ebbing away. Do not abandon hope completely, Aragorn, no darkness is made to endure.'

Aragorn nodded jadedly, closing his eyes.

'Aragorn,' Legolas began, and this time it was he who paused in momentary uncertainty, 'I'm going to help you get out of here. I promise.'

Despite the seriousness of the statement, Aragorn couldn't quite suppress a dry laugh. Though he found no humor in the situation, he needed to respond in order to disguise the swell of hopeless he felt towards his bleak future.

'I will not hold you to your promise, for it is a task doomed to failure. Daged would see me dead rather than releasing me from this cruel torment.'

His façade didn't fool the elf. Legolas' eyes reflected pity, and his hands began to caress the ranger's face, committing the feel of the youth's skin to memory.

'_Gar estel_,' Legolas murmured . Aragorn felt Legolas' forehead rest against his own, the elf's gentle hands touching his face, and a multitude of emotions swelled suddenly within him, released by the immortal's close intimacy. He felt at once an immense yearning for comfort, vying against the destitution of anger and sorrow.

And, impossibly, despite all that he had suffered, he felt the slow stir of desire.

Aragorn flinched back, fearful of his body's betrayal, and Legolas murmured in reassurance.

'It's okay,' the elf whispered.

'No, Legolas-,' Aragorn froze, unable to put his frightening feelings into words.

'Aragorn, _it's okay_,' Legolas repeated, firmer this time.

There was a moment of stillness, the only sound in the room was Aragorn's harsh breathing, and then as though in a dream Aragorn pressed his mouth forwards, meeting Legolas' soft lips and finding them closer then before. The ranger trembled, his body quivering, and Aragorn's breath left him as Legolas' mouth moved slowly against his own.

Legolas' kiss was tender in a way Aragorn had never known. The elf was soft and gentle, keeping the kiss light, mindful of the trembling youth, and it was sweet. Sweet and kind and caring. Before his capture, Aragorn had been ignorant and naive of the ways men could share their passion, and apart from the twisted want to please his master, Aragorn had never desired another man until now.

The ranger's closed his eyes in bliss. Aragorn craved tenderness. He longed to feel loved and cherished, and for a brief moment his ever present fear was forgotten, replaced by unabashed happiness. Aragorn's felt as though he was melting against the warm strength of the elf's solid body. The ranger raised both hands to the elf's face, his fingers caressing as his mouth moved fervently. Legolas' hands tightened in the youth's hair and his tongue swiped against Aragorn's lips, asking for entry, and Aragorn hesitated, caught between desire and momentary uncertainty.

'I'm sorry,' Legolas gasped, pulling away suddenly. 'I shouldn't have-'

'No. Don't stop, please.' Aragorn said, his voice raw with passion. 'I want this.'

His eyes reflected his desperation, he could see it in the way Legolas' face softened. A kind smile played across the elf's lips, and Aragorn felt a hopeful flutter in his belly.

Their lips had only just met, the lightest of touches, when both the ranger and the elf heard the sound of loud, booted feet in the hallway outside. Aragorn flinched away, terrified of what Daged would do if he found them in such a position. Legolas' hands tightened briefly in the youth's tangled tresses, reluctant to let go. Then he dropped his hands to his side, rolling away and resting his back against the headboard next to Aragorn's.

The ranger had no time to reflect immediately on what had just transpired. He slid his body downwards, hissing as his back caught against the wood, and pulled the covers higher on his body, feigning slumber.

Daged entered, and Legolas quickly went to the Gondorian's side, talking to the man in hushed tones. Within moments the pair had disappeared into Daged's bathing chamber, leaving the ranger in solitude. Without Daged's presence looming over him, the youth's thoughts inevitably turned to Legolas. Though Aragorn's head was in turmoil, playing through his brief moment of shared passion with the elf, even thinking about Legolas was not enough to keep his fatigue at bay for long. Soon, the young ranger succumbed to sleep, full for the first time of tenderness and warmth rather then pain and fear


End file.
